* * *
“Why didn’t we just ride with Stella and Seb?” Emmie asks when we’re sitting in the back of the limo that Dad has arranged for us.
“They’ll have a separate car.”
“Seems fairly pointless, seeing as we’re all going to the same place.”
“You can take it up with my dad if you want,” I say, only half-seriously.
“Uh… no, I think I’m okay. So what should I be expecting?”
“A lot of pretentious people who think more of themselves than they really should.”
“I’m used to that, I’ve spent enough time with you and the guys.”
“Oh, ouch,” I gasp, lifting my hand to my chest as if it actually hurt me.
“Oh shush, you’re an entitled, pretentious prick and you know it.”
“Don’t hold back, will you, babe?”
“I haven’t up until now. Why change?”
I shake my head at her, a soft smile playing on my lips. “Never change. Ever.”
“What else? Do not tell me there’s like, real dancing or some shit.”
I bark out a laugh. “If you’re asking if I’ll pull you on the dancefloor to do a waltz, then no. You’re safe. It’s just drinks, dinner, then a bit of gambling and more drinking.”
“Sounds so very normal.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be anything but fucking normal,” I mutter, nervously playing with the ring on her finger as we get closer to the hotel.
“I can’t believe they close the entire place just for your family and friends.”
“Well, when you’re rich and entitled, you can do whatever you want,” I quip back, following her stare up at the imposing building before us.
“Touché.”
“What is it?” I ask when she hesitates to get out.
“Are you sure you want me to wear this?” she asks, holding up her ring.
“Of course I do.”
“Stella and Calli will notice. They’ll—”
“I don’t care. Do you?”
She looks at the jewellery and then back up at me once more.
“I… um… I don’t want to make any of this any harder than it needs to be.”
“It’s going to come out eventually, Em. You can’t keep me as your dirty little secret forever.” I wink, hoping to lighten the mood a little.
“I know, but what am I meant to say?”
“Tell them whatever makes you happy. It was a present. It’s an engagement ring. It’s your wedding ring,” I say, brushing my lips over her ear and making her shudder. “Just so long as they know it’s got something to do with me making you mine, I’m all good.”
“Possessive arsehole.”
“Every man in that place tonight is going to want you, Emmie. I have every right to be possessive.”
“No, they—”
“But there’s only one man you’re going to be leaving with, don’t forget that,” I say, cutting off her argument.
“Come on, then. Let’s get this over with. I want to see that suite you promised me.”
After sucking in a huge breath, she scoots over to the door. But the second she pops the handle, our driver is on the other side, opening it and helping her out. It’s a move I’d have preferred to do myself, but whatever.